The Masquerade
by LadyHeatherlly
Summary: Deep in the heart of Camelot, a powerful deception is woven by a man who's just a little too good at keeping secrets. An alternative to Episode 2x03, in which Merlin decides to take matters into his own hands rather than sending Morgana off to the Druids to learn the truth about her magic.
1. Part I: The Summoning

**Title:** The Masquerade  
**Category:** Het (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Merlin/Morgana  
**Rating/Warnings:** M  
**Summary:** Deep in the heart of Camelot, a powerful deception is woven by a man who's just a little too good at keeping secrets. An alternative to Episode 2x03, in which Merlin decides to take matters into his own hands rather than sending Morgana off to the Druids to learn the truth about her magic.

**Author's Note:** Loosely inspired by "The Phantom of the Opera."

* * *

**Part I: The Summoning**

* * *

The scars were only the beginning.

_Magic of the soul_, was how the book described the disfigurement spell, _wherein one must draw upon the damage within and pull it to the surface. Speak the words, utter them clearly and without hesitation, while focusing your energies on the mistreatment you've suffered throughout the course of your existence._

"Utanweard hearmcwalu!"

At first, he was only a panicked boy assaulted by memories of petty childhood insults, along with recollections of a mother who'd only ever provided the opposite of what he needed in this moment: pain, fear, isolation, sorrow…

But then he brought himself back to more recent times and the man inside him finally emerged, an eerie sort of resignation settling over his features as his smooth skin began to thicken and distort. It was there in his eyes as he slowly transformed – the deep, gut wrenching loneliness that was his sole reason for performing this particular spell.

"Then you believe me? You think it's magic, too. Please, Merlin, I just need to hear someone say it so I don't have to keep feeling like I'm imagining it."

No, he couldn't tell her the truth… and yet how could he stand by and do nothing? Even if she learned to control her powers and keep them hidden, what could be worse than living with the knowledge that the people she loved might very well put her to death if they ever learned her secret?

It didn't matter what Gaius said – how could he possibly understand the pain of being despised for the way you were born? For him, magic was a choice, one that could be nurtured or pushed away at will. He'd never know how much it hurt to be reminded twenty, fifty, a hundred times a day that simply being himself was an unforgivable crime in the eyes of the world.

But _she_ would know, left to suffer in silence for years if he didn't do something to help her now. Even worse, she'd be forced to listen to that sort of hatred coming from the lips of the people who might as well have been her own family. She wouldn't have a mentor like Gaius to rely upon, nor a loving mother to lend her strength when she needed it most. She'd be…

Alone.

Gritting his teeth against the sensation of a hot blade slicing through his cheek, Merlin struggled to keep his thoughts on Morgana, along with the deep conviction that had driven him to cast this spell. Morgana – innocent and kind, generous to a fault and more beautiful than words could describe. She didn't deserve…

He let out a gasp – not from the pain, but in response to the abrupt absence of it. And just like that, it was done.

That first night was the only time he'd confront his own reflection while wearing the disguise. He'd just wanted to make himself difficult to recognize, but the face staring back at him was hardly a face at all. Only his eyes were familiar – beyond that, the physical manifestation of his emotional pain was beyond description. Letting out a humorless chuckle at the thought that Edwin Muirden would've been downright handsome in comparison, he whispered an incantation that turned the mirror into something else entirely.

No, there would be no mirrors in this place, nothing to reflect the truth in the midst of so much necessary deception. Lifting the conjured mask to his face, he secured it over his distorted features before turning to inspect the dilapidated chamber.

There was still a lot of work to do.

* * *

It was three nights before Morgana responded to the call.

The first time she heard it was terrifying, the strange male voice in her head met by frantic screams, followed by a hasty explanation when Gwen had come rushing into the room. She sent her maidservant home early on the second night, having convinced herself that it had been nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination. After all, it wouldn't be the strangest thing to have happened to her as of late.

But then the voice had come to her again later that evening, leaving her to question her own sanity before a single memory resurfaced to put her at ease.

Mordred.

The Druid boy had spoken to her without words, and although this voice was different, certainly older, there was something oddly familiar about it. It pleaded with her to find the owner deep within the Citadel, at a location beneath the first floor she wasn't sure she'd ever even visited before.

_Morgana. Morgana, **please**._

Was this man another Druid? Thanks to Uther's latest decree, those who were under even the slightest suspicion of magic were being hunted like dogs in the streets. It wouldn't have surprised her to discover that one of them had taken refuge in the labyrinthine passageways beneath the castle.

_Morgana, I won't hurt you. I swear it._

How did he know her name? Well, everyone did, of course, but that didn't explain why he didn't address her by her proper title. Only those she was closest to had a habit of skipping the formalities.

_I just need to see you._

And then guilt overruled any further sense of caution. After all, it was her fault that these people were in danger in the first place… well, more danger than usual. Didn't she have an obligation to help this man if he needed her?

**Yes.**

But by the time she'd made up her mind, pale light was beginning to creep into her bedchamber and all was silent. And so she waited out the day, hoping against hope that the man would call out to her again when she finally retired that evening. Her distress was even more magnified when several newly captured prisoners were brought before the king that afternoon, then sentenced to death without a trial. She watched in helpless terror as they were dragged away, praying that the mysterious man wasn't among them. The alternative was unthinkable – what if her own hesitation had condemned him to a slow and painful death?

Two nights after she'd cried out in fear at the sound of his voice, she wept with relief when it materialized in her head once more. By then there was no question – she slipped on her cloak, passing like a ghost through the lightly guarded corridors.

_Where are you?_

Again, she questioned her own sanity as she willed the thought in his direction… until she received an answer.

_I'm down here, Morgana. Take the secret passageway behind the statue on the first floor._

She frowned in confusion. _Which one?_

_The one that has a large crack just below the knee. It's across from the…_

_I know where it is._

_Tap on its… its groin. Three times should do it._

Morgana did as he instructed, letting out a gasp of surprise as the statue glided aside to reveal a small opening. Casting a surreptitious glance up and down the empty corridor, she slipped inside. _How do I close…?_

But there was no need to ask; it slid right back into place behind her. _Amazing!_

It was becoming easier, this talking without words. Soon enough, it required no more effort than opening her mouth to speak.

_I've never been down here before_, she told him in her mind as she passed through the dusty, heavily cobwebbed passageway that was illuminated by a source of light she couldn't see. _I didn't even know it existed._

_Few people do,_ he echoed back to her. _Just a little further now. When you come to the wall, take a right and look for the loose brick on your left side. It should be about chest level… erm, eye level for you._

_How do you know how tall I am?_ A shiver of fear skittered up her spine, but it was too late to turn back now.

_I know a lot of things about you, Morgana. Most importantly, I know you're someone I can trust. I hope to prove the same._

Swallowing the last of her trepidation, she dragged her fingers across the smooth stone surface, on the verge of asking him for further instruction when her hand passed over a small protrusion.

_How?_

_Push on it._

_Nothing's happening._

_A little harder, Morgana. Try again._

Strangely enough, the reverberation of his voice sounded even more nervous than she felt as the wall gave a gentle shudder, parting to reveal an archway that led into…

She let out a gasp, her eyes wide as she stepped forward into the comfortable little room. The furnishings looked old, as if they'd been salvaged from some storage chamber that had lain untouched since the time of the ancient kings. And yet they were newly polished – table and chairs, wardrobe and washstand, along with a large bed that was draped with the sumptuous furs that had been used long before the time of silken pillows and brocaded blankets.

"I don't understand," she blurted out, her own voice sounding harsh and unfamiliar to her ears.

It was then that he stepped forward, moving out of the shadows to stand before her as he dipped his head in a respectful nod. He was tall and slender, clad in a dark cloak with his arms buried within the folds. But that wasn't the unusual part – she wasn't even aware of the hand she raised to her mouth as she peered up at his face.

He was wearing a mask.

It was nothing grotesque – on the contrary, it was crafted from an intricately carved piece of oak, fashioned in the contours of what could only be described as a perfect male profile. High cheekbones, a strong nose, lips that were well formed and almost sensuous… she was suddenly overwhelmed by the temptation to run her fingers over the smooth wood. Instead, she swallowed hard and took a quick step backward.

"I must seem strange to you," he said quietly.

"No, I…" But she trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

"I suppose you're wondering who I am."

She nodded mutely.

"And why I asked you to come?"

"Yes."

The man held out his arm, indicating the closest empty chair. "Sit down and I'll explain."

She stayed right where she was as she continued to stare at him, torn between fear and insatiable curiosity.

"Morgana, if I had any intention of hurting you, it wouldn't matter whether you were here at the table or over there by the door. It won't open."

* * *

Oh, he shouldn't have said that. They'd been doing so well…

"I demand you release me at once!" she shrieked, beating on the door with her small fists. "How _dare_ you…?!"

"Morgana, please…"

She whirled around, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. That was Morgana, all right – any trace of fear had been immediately swallowed by her righteous fury.

"Morgana," he tried again, holding out both hands in a helpless gesture. "I didn't bring you down here to…"

"To trap me?" she snapped, flinching away from him. "To scare me half to death? Even if you don't mean to hurt me, I _really_ don't appreciate…"

"Tospringe," he interrupted in a quiet voice.

Morgana, who'd been shoving ineffectually at the door, stumbled and nearly fell as it suddenly came open. He reached out to steady her, but then quickly removed his arms and put some distance between them in response to the wary look in her eyes.

"I wasn't trying to trap you. The door can only be opened with magic. I… it's safer for us both."

She seemed to ponder that for a moment, then gave him a curt nod as she moved past him and dropped into a chair. "Well?" she said abruptly. "You're right – I shouldn't be down here, especially in the middle of the night. Someone could easily discover that my chamber is empty, so you'd better just go ahead and…"

"Did you send Gw- your maid home early?"

He winced as she gave him a suspicious look, relieved that she couldn't see the anxious expression he was wearing beneath his mask. Oh, he was mucking this all up. How was this ever going to work?

"How do you know I have a maid, or that I…?"

"I've lived in the palace for ten years," he cut in hastily. "I might keep to the shadows, but I see things. Hear things. It's not that I intend to eavesdrop, but…" He trailed off, pointing at the grate above his head. "Sometimes I can't help it."

Morgana frowned as he settled himself in a chair across the table. "Where does that lead?"

"The Council Chamber." It was a risk to make such a claim, but at the same time, it would go a long way in explaining why he seemed to know a lot more than he should have.

"So you overhear official business," she said slowly. "Sensitive information that could endanger us all if it got into the wrong hands."

He leaned forward just a little, reaching for the bottle of wine that was resting on a shelf beside his head. "Trust me, Morgana… Uther is a far greater danger to me than I am to him."

She gave him a long, measuring look. "Yes," she conceded after a moment. "I'm sure you're right about that. But if you know that, why…?"

Uncorking the bottle, he filled a pair of pewter goblets to the brim before pushing one across the table. The story he'd come up with to explain his presence had seemed plausible enough when he was on his own, but now… he only hoped it would be enough for her to believe as well. If she didn't…

Well, that didn't bear thinking.

"I was just a little boy when my family and I were captured," he started quietly. "My father and mother were Druids, as am I, of course. We didn't do anything wrong, I swear we didn't, but…"

She nodded, the skepticism in her eyes suddenly replaced by something that looked a lot like compassion.

"Upon the king's orders, they were both burned in the fires. I was supposed to meet the same fate, but… well, I don't know which one of them managed to do it, but I felt the ropes come free. I heard both of their voices in my head, screaming at me to run, to hide, and that's what I did. The soldiers were searching the lower town, obviously expecting that I'd try to get out of the city, but…"

"You came here instead," she finished for him.

"Yes. Everyone was gathered outside to watch the executions. It just made sense to run in the other direction, I guess. After hiding in storage rooms and back passageways for a few weeks, I stumbled across this place by accident. I've been living here ever since."

"For ten years?" She stared at him with wide eyes. "And you've never been caught?"

He shook his head with a smile she couldn't see. "I've come close a few times, but I've been lucky so far."

"But how do you…?" She gestured to her goblet of wine, still left untouched.

"Food and other things?" At her nod, he continued with a quiet chuckle. "Very carefully, but I manage well enough. I'm sorry, I… I guess it's technically stealing, but I never take more than I need."

"No, it's all right," she said softly, tracing a finger around the top of the cup. "I'd say you're entitled to it after everything you've lost, and Uther can certainly afford it. I… I just can hardly believe… ten years? Have you ever tried to escape?"

"No."

"I know you've been lucky, but surely you must realize how dangerous it is. If the king ever found out…"

He shrugged, reaching for his goblet before it occurred to him that he had no way to actually drink through the mask. "This is the only home I know," he told her. "Besides, it's not like I would be much safer anywhere else."

"But you have to be… well, doesn't it get lonely?"

"Sometimes. But that would be true no matter where I was. I don't know anybody, I…"

She leaned forward, reaching out to touch his hand for a moment. "But if you were out in the world, back with your own kind, perhaps, you could make friends. You could…"

"Maybe," he said with another shrug. "But I have no idea how to survive out there, while I do well enough right where I am. And anyway, this," he paused to point at his face, "might make it a bit more difficult."

"You were burned?"

"Yes, before I managed to escape. The scars…"

"Are not your fault!" she interjected with a sudden flash of anger in her eyes. "You shouldn't have to feel ashamed…"

"I don't," he said, not wanting to send her off on an unnecessary tirade. "I'm just not really comfortable with the way I look now. The mask might scare other people if they saw it, but I feel safer with it on."

"I think I understand," she responded, resuming the same quiet compassion that had been so evident in her expression before. "After what you've been through, the way you've lived ever since, no one but a fool or a tyrant would begrudge you anything that made you feel more secure."

Merlin let out a sigh of relief, having expected more questions where the mask was concerned, perhaps even for Morgana to pressure him to remove it. But then again, perhaps she _did_ understand – after all, she was in hiding herself, even if she didn't fully realize it just yet.

If it were up to him, she never would.

"I guess you're still wondering why I called for you," he said after a moment. When she nodded, he continued. "Well, I know what you've been going through recently."

The wary look was back. "What do you mean?"

"The nightmares? Setting your chamber on fire? Strange things have been happening to you, and you're frightened. You're terrified this means you have magic."

Morgana actually flinched at the word. "How do you know that?"

He pointed at the grate above their heads again, which he quickly realized was a drastic mistake when all the color drained from her face. She let out a gasp, raising one hand to cover her mouth.

"Does Uther suspect…?"

"No!" he said hastily. "No. I've only heard about the fires, and the physician has mentioned treating you for nightmares several times. As for the rest, I just… I sensed it. Anyway, it's not hard to figure out that the king's ward would fear the worst if such strange things were happening around her."

Morgana looked relieved, but only slightly. "But if you sensed it… and the way I can hear you in my head and respond… you're not the only one, you know. There was a Druid boy, a little over a year ago…"

"Mordred," he confirmed, then cringed. But she was too distracted to realize that once again, he knew more than he should have. She was leaning far across the table, peering into his eyes so intently that he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Tell me the truth," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Do I have magic?"

Merlin hesitated, the words bubbling up in his throat with an insistence he found nearly impossible to swallow. How much he wished he could just admit it, both for her sake and his own. To have a friend, a confidant, someone with whom he could share his secrets, his fears, the ever present loneliness he was forced to live with each and every day. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for either of them if they had one another to lean on?

But no, he couldn't do it. Not only had he made a promise to Gaius, but the older man was right – she'd be much safer if she never knew the truth.

"No," he said quietly after a long pause. "You don't have magic, Morgana."


	2. Part II: The Subterfuge

**Part II: The Subterfuge**

* * *

"What?" Morgana stared at him in shock.

"I said you don't have magic."

She shook her head vehemently. "I know you've overheard things here and there, but you don't understand. I… I was staring right at the candle and it just burned higher and higher, and… there have been other things, too. But more than that, I _feel_ it. It's been there for a long time, I…"

Merlin swallowed his lingering uncertainty, pushed away the nagging feeling that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to proceed with this plan. It was too late; there was no way he could turn back now.

"You've been enchanted, Morgana. That's all."

"Enchanted?!" Her eyes were skeptical as she stared at him from across the table. "No, that can't be… you don't know how long…"

"It doesn't matter. Many of these spells can last for weeks, months, even years before they wear off or are broken."

"But if this is true, how? Why? To what end? What kind of enchantment could it be?"

He sat patiently as the questions were fired at him one after another. In this, at least, he was well-prepared with explanations, even if he was more or less pulling them out of thin air.

"Before I was brought to Camelot, I saw these type of spells cast among the Druids. As you may or may not know, there are some among my kind who don't have any magical abilities. To them, certain powers were sometimes granted… practical abilities like the means to conjure a fire, maybe, or the talent to conceal themselves when danger was near."

Morgana frowned. "But how do you know the difference? How can you be sure that the things that have been happening to me are only the product of an enchantment, rather than…?"

"Because you don't know how to control them," he said quietly, hating himself for the lie. "Those who are born with magic know how to use it, in the same way you knew from your first breath how to take another. It's a matter of instinct, not something that must be learned."

"I've never heard that."

His face broke into a humorless smile beneath the mask. "Forgive me for saying so, Morgana, but you've lived in Camelot for most of your life. How much of what you've heard about magic do you think is accurate?"

She let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose that's true. But I still feel like…"

"I know. Everyone does, whether they've been born with it, or just have temporary powers like you do. Magic gets into your blood, and even if the enchantment is broken, you'll never be quite the same."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked him cautiously.

"You'll always be more sympathetic to my kind. You'll understand us on a deeper level where others cannot. But you already know that, don't you? I've heard you speak in our defense, long before you believed you might be one of us. That's true, isn't it?"

"I… yes."

"You still don't believe me."

She gave him an apologetic look. "Not completely, no. I'm sorry, I just… well, why would anyone place me under an enchantment like that in the first place? You said the Druids did it for practical reasons, but it doesn't make sense that I…"

"Yes it does," he interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. "It could've been someone with ill intentions, who wanted to trick the king into believing that someone close to him had magic. Revenge, you know? Or maybe it was just someone who thought that if you had reason to believe you might be a sorceress, you'd be able to convince the king to lift the ban on magic."

Morgana snorted. "Not likely. Uther is…"

"I know. But not everyone understands how much he hates my kind."

"But why would they choose to give me nightmares?"

He hesitated, then relaxed as the answer came to him much more easily than he might've expected. "They aren't just ordinary nightmares, are they? Your dreams have a way of coming true."

She nodded.

"Someone enchanted you with the gift of prophecy."

"More like a curse."

"I'm sure it seems that way. But well, it makes sense that they would've chosen you."

"Why?" she asked, giving him a bewildered look.

"Think about it – you have a lot of influence over both the king and Prince Arthur. Maybe the person who did it was hoping you'd see catastrophes before they could happen, then use the power you have to prevent them."

Morgana let out a bitter laugh. "I can only imagine telling Uther to send out the knights to meet an invading army because I saw it in a dream. I'd be locked up in the dungeons so fast…"

"Maybe, but there again…"

"They wouldn't necessarily know that," she finished for him.

"Right," he agreed, relieved when she finally picked up her goblet and took a long drink of wine. She still looked skeptical, but at least she'd decided he was harmless to the point that she wouldn't suspect him of trying to poison her. That was good… he'd need her to accept his offers of drinks in the nights to come.

"Morgana?"

"Hmm?"

He was momentarily distracted as she chased a stray droplet of wine, a flash of pink tongue sliding with an almost torturous slowness across her lush lower lip. Feeling a familiar stirring beneath his cloak, he stubbornly ignored it, drawing a deep breath as he came the point of the entire debacle.

"I… uh, I can lift the enchantment if you like."

Shooting him a sharp glance, she nearly spilled her goblet as she set it back on the table. "How?"

"It's just a simple incantation."

That prompted a strange expression, one filled with both hope and trepidation. Hardly surprising – for all that magic was a terrible burden in Uther's kingdom, it was still part of the person it belonged to. It must've been like a soldier with a leg wound that had festered – despite the risk to himself, the thought of losing the limb was intolerable.

Hopefully, Morgana wouldn't prove to be so unwilling, accepting the relief he offered rather than fighting him tooth and nail every step of the way. Far from being left a cripple, she'd be free to live a normal life.

He wasn't fool enough to believe he could keep it up forever, of course, but if he could somehow make it last until Uther was gone and magic was restored to the kingdom, all would be well. Then it wouldn't matter if some stranger in a mask had lied to her in the past. She'd be free to seek out others of her kind, perhaps even Merlin himself, to learn everything she needed to know.

"I'm not sure," she said, gazing back at him through eyes that were filled with uncertainty.

"Morgana," he murmured in his most gentle, persuasive voice. "It's not your fault that you were enchanted, but it still puts you in danger. You know that. Why would you want to live that way when you don't have to?"

"It still doesn't seem like an enchantment," she said stubbornly, which was no more than he should have expected. "I just feel…"

"Then let me prove it to you. If you have magic – _real_ magic – do you really think that a wave of my hand and a few silly words is going to make it go away?"

She smiled at that. "Maybe not. But I… well, can I have a little time to think about it?"

He nodded, relieved that at least she hadn't refused outright. "I'll call for you again and you can let me know what you've decided."

"I… all right," she said as she rose abruptly to her feet. "I should go. No telling what time it is, and I'd like to get a little sleep tonight."

But just as he pushed his chair back with the intention of getting the door for her, she was already there with a whisper of "Tospringe." With a pointed look over her shoulder as it opened effortlessly, followed by a self-satisfied smirk, she was gone.

* * *

Morgana managed to fall asleep almost immediately after returning to her chamber, but her nightmares were vicious. He was in them all, the mysterious masked Druid, struggling to pull her away from any number of scenes that left her horrified.

It was his hand she scrambled for when she saw herself on her knees in the Council Chamber, pale and shaking as she stared up at another shadow of a man with eyes full of betrayal. No, she didn't want that to be her future… how could she? Meanwhile, her new friend promised safety, comfort, an end to these awful visions. And perhaps if they were gone, they would never come to pass at all.

But what did he offer in return? That was the frightening thing. Whenever she turned in his direction in search of an escape, all that lay behind him was a yawning black void that was somehow even more disconcerting than all the flashes of violence, of fear and unspeakable cruelty could've ever been. Was it simply that to give herself over to him was to face the unknown? Or was there some hidden menace behind his good intentions, some unknown threat she could feel but could not see?

In the end, Morgana came awake with a harrowing scream, opening her eyes to find Gwen's worried face hovering over her and the pale light of dawn pouring in through the curtains.

"Another nightmare?"

"What else would it be?" she snapped, irritated at being questioned about something that should've been blatantly obvious. But in response to the flash of hurt in the other woman's expression, she immediately made an effort to soften her tone. "I'm sorry, Gwen, I'm just tired. I don't mean to take it out on you."

That was met with an understanding smile. "It's all right, my lady. Would you like to try and get a little more rest? It's still early, and Gaius delivered more of your sleeping draught this morning. I'm sure that if you took some…"

Morgana shook her head as she sat up and reached for her dressing gown. "That won't be necessary. Just a bath, if you don't mind, some clean clothes and perhaps a little breakfast? It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day – I think I'll get out of this chamber for a bit and have a walk."

Gwen looked relieved, which was hardly a surprise. Only a few days before, Morgana had been in seclusion, too distraught to even leave her bed. Magic… the thought of having it had been distressing enough, but the realization that she had no idea how to control it either? She'd lain there for hours, tossing and turning in silent torment as she'd contemplated the manner of her own execution. Burned at the stake? Beheaded? It hadn't helped that those atrocities had been taking place in the courtyard below, pleas for mercy followed by agonized screams coming to her ears as if they were her own.

They would be sooner or later; there'd been no denying that. Whether by the gallows or the pyre, the chopping block or death by drowning, there was no escaping the fact that she was destined to die when Uther discovered the truth. What she hadn't been able to decide was what would be worse – the suffering itself, or the knowledge that it was someone who claimed to love her who was subjecting her to such an awful fate?

Only one thing had given her the will to rise from her bed amidst so much fear and turmoil – the need to know the truth, to hear it from some other source than the recesses of her troubled mind. Of course, that had come to nothing; after Merlin's refusal to even consider magic as a possibility, she simply hadn't had the courage to talk to anyone else.

That confrontation had been painful beyond description, but maybe in the end, it was for the best. If what the Druid said was true…

Morgana still found it difficult to believe that everything that had been happening was only the product of an enchantment rather than her own magic. Even though the explanations she'd been given made perfect sense, something still felt… _off_ somehow. This was reinforced by the tiny voice that still whispered that sorcery was embedded in her soul, as much a part of her as bones and blood and sinew.

But then again, the Druid had made a strong point – what did she _really_ know about magic? How could she be sure this wasn't just a trick of the mind, an illusion intended to make her cleave to the powers she'd been granted rather than rejecting them outright?

In the end, her decision was made before she ever left her chamber, making the long walk to clear her head rather unnecessary. But she wandered the corridors anyway, sending Gwen off with an extensive list of chores and errands so she could enjoy a rare day of solitude. There were no summons, no orders to report to the Council Chamber or other obligations to worry about. No, there was simply Morgana and her thoughts, along with a growing certainty that there was only one path to follow.

When he called for her again, she'd permit him to speak his incantation. If he was right, she'd no longer have to live with such a frightening secret. If he was wrong and the spell didn't work… well, at least she'd know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she indeed had magic.

Strangely enough, Morgana couldn't quite decide which outcome she was hoping for.


	3. Part III: The Seduction

**Part III: The Seduction**

* * *

Morgana's face was even more pale than usual, almost ghostly as he ushered her into the room. Without a word, she seated herself at the table, then fixed him with an expectant look.

"You've decided?" he said, though there was no need to ask.

"What happens if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

She frowned, studying him closely as he poured a cup of wine and set it in front of her. "But if you are…"

Merlin reached up to rub his eyes, before remembering it was impossible to do so through the mask. He was exhausted – he hadn't even been able to grab an hour or two of sleep that morning since Arthur had risen early for an impromptu hunting trip. Following that, he'd been on his feet until well after nightfall, scrubbing floors, polishing armor, sweeping the armory, and mucking out the stables. It had seemed more like punishment than work, as if Arthur somehow knew he was up to something and wanted to make him pay for it.

Of course, that was just his guilty conscience talking, something he'd obviously have to get used to if he was going to go through with this.

"I'm not wrong," he repeated more firmly.

"But…"

He sighed, finding it hard to recall why this had seemed like such a good idea in the first place. If he'd just left it alone, he could be fast asleep right now. Hell, for all he knew, the spell might not even work – the book said it was capable of suppressing considerable powers if the caster possessed the strength of will to maintain it, but did he?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

As if sensing his thoughts, Morgana shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Well, there's no use in arguing about it. Go on then."

"Ah, we should have some wine first."

She frowned. "I'd rather just get it over with if it's all the same to you."

Fixing him with an expectant look, she visibly braced herself, letting out a long, shuddering breath to calm her nerves. Of course, he should have anticipated this – Morgana wasn't exactly the most patient person he knew, and despite the fear in her eyes, she was one to face any challenge without hesitation. That worked in his favor in a lot of ways, but not this one… she had to take the potion before he recited the incantation, or the spell would never work.

"Morgana, you need to… that is, this will go more smoothly if you're relaxed."

"I'm perfectly at ease."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You look like you're about to scream."

"I don't…" But then she shrugged, seeming to decide it wasn't worth quibbling about. Raising the goblet to her lips, she gulped down several large mouthfuls before setting it back on the table.

"Happy?"

He breathed out a sigh of relief. "All right then, that should be better."

It wasn't, of course; she was cringing as he held out his hand, her body trembling more and more noticeably with each word that fell from his lips. Her eyes were tightly shut by the end of the spell, cracking open to give him a wary look when he trailed off into silence.

"Is it done?"

"Yes."

"I don't feel any different."

He swallowed a rush of anxiety. "Well… that is, I don't expect you would. But…"

It was obvious she wasn't listening. No, she was staring intently at the candle in the middle of the table, her brow furrowing in concentration as she muttered under her breath. Meanwhile, the flame burned low and steady, not wavering in the slightest.

"It worked," he said under his breath, almost as surprised as she was.

But Morgana wasn't ready to give up just yet. Rising from her chair, she hurried over to the door, holding out her hand with a quiet command of 'Tospringe'. She repeated it once, twice, a third time, her voice growing louder and more bewildered as it echoed through the tiny storage room.

"See? It was only an enchantment, Morgana, just like I told you. You no longer have…"

"Try to speak to me like you did before," she interrupted in a stiff voice. "Say something in my head."

Merlin's face grew deathly pale beneath the mask. This was the one thing he hadn't thought of, that he would need the power to summon her without words in the future. The spell was a powerful one, of course, but would need to be repeated once a week, give or take a few days, if there would be any hope of maintaining it. No magic could be suppressed indefinitely.

_Morgana,_ he thought hard at her, even while knowing it was a futile effort. _ Morgana, can you hear me?_

She gave him a blank stare. "Well, can you do it? I just want to be sure."

"I'm doing it right now."

"But I don't hear a thing."

"Right," he said, pushing away another wave of guilt at the bewildered, curiously sad expression on her face. "That's because…"

"The enchantment is broken. So you said. Well, I suppose I can't be sure until I see whether or not the nightmares return. I… I should be going. I need to get some sleep anyway."

"Morgana, wait!" he called urgently as she pulled the door open.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering… will you visit me again? I know I shouldn't ask, but… well, it gets pretty lonely down here, and…"

"I suppose it does," she responded, her voice suddenly soft and sympathetic. "It's a terrible injustice that anyone would have to live this way when they've done nothing to deserve it."

He nodded in agreement. "It would be nice to have a friend. That's something I've never… well, anyway, it would mean a lot to me."

"Perhaps it would be good for us both." She gave him a cautious smile. "But I'll have to be careful – I can't sneak down here every night. Camelot's guards might not be particularly observant, but…"

"Just as often as you can manage, that's all I ask."

"Fair enough. Good night… wait, I don't even know your name. I'm sorry, I never thought to ask."

"Emr…" he started, then thought better of it. "My parents called me Kynon."

_Kynon?_ Where had that come from? Oh well, perhaps it didn't matter – it sounded nothing like either of his real names, which was good enough.

"Kynon," she said slowly, as if tasting the word to determine whether or not she liked it. And then she smiled, reaching out to give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Very well – good night, Kynon. I'll see you soon."

* * *

Anticipation, nervousness, hope, dread… it seemed impossible that Morgana would be able to fall asleep when so much was hinging on what would happen when she did. But eventually, her inner turmoil was overruled by sheer exhaustion. One moment, she was struggling to keep her eyes open, and the next thing she knew, bright sunlight was pouring through the chamber windows.

"It's gone," she whispered in disbelief. "It's really gone."

"What did you say, my lady?"

Morgana rubbed her eyes, blinking hard until Gwen's face came into focus. She was hovering over the bed with eyes full of concern.

"Nothing. I mean, it was just a dream."

"Another nightmare? I'm so sorry, Morgana – when you sent me home early yesterday, it didn't even cross my mind to pick up your sleeping draught before I left."

Morgana dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand. "What time is it?"

"It was nearly noon the last time I checked, and that was before I did the laundry. Well into the afternoon by now, I'm sure."

"Afternoon?!"

Gwen nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you. I thought it best to let you catch up on your sleep so you'll be fresh for our journey to your father's grave tomorrow."

"Of course. Thank you, Gwen."

"You must be hungry."

Morgana flashed her a brilliant smile. "Famished."

It was only when the maidservant had departed that Morgana let her thoughts drift back to the previous night, trying to absorb the enormity of what had happened and what it meant. No magic, just an enchantment… Kynon had been right after all. Her emotions were still torn, lingering skepticism at war with undeniable proof, crushing disappointment mingled with intense relief. But for the moment, the latter was winning out – despite whatever mixed feelings she might have, at least she no longer had to live in fear.

* * *

"You changed your mask."

Merlin unconsciously reached up to touch the soft leather, taking pains to disguise his voice now that he could no longer rely on solid wood to muffle and distort it. "Yeah, this one is a bit more comfortable."

Responding with a tentative smile, Morgana took off her cloak and dropped into a chair. "I'm sorry, I wanted to come sooner. It's just been a hard week. We were attacked on the road, and my maidservant was kidnapped, and…"

"I know." he said automatically, then cringed.

"How?" And then she glanced up at the grate above their heads. "Oh, right."

"She's doing all right now?"

Morgana nodded, though her expression was sad. "She wasn't injured, thankfully, but… well, she's not herself right now. Whatever happened to her, she's taking it really hard. Sometimes it's obvious she's been crying, but I can't get her to talk to me about it."

The last thing Merlin needed was something else to feel guilty about, telling himself all over again that he'd done the right thing when he'd allowed Lancelot to leave without protest. Yes, Gwen would be fine – Arthur would take care of her once he got over his injured pride.

"It can't have been easy, being kidnapped like that," he finally said, pouring her a cup of wine. "She just needs time to move past it, that's all. I wouldn't worry – she's a strong person. That is, I mean she's always seemed that way from everything I've heard."

"She is," Morgana agreed, accepting the goblet and raising it to her lips. "One of the strongest people I know, and the most loyal friend I've ever had. I don't think I've ever been more frightened than I was when she was taken. To think that she might not come back? I was furious when Uther refused to help her, though I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. If it wasn't for Arthur and Merlin…"

There was something strange about being brought up as a topic of conversation while he was pretending to be someone else. "Merlin seems like a… loyal sort as well."

"Oh, no doubt about it, even if Arthur doesn't appreciate him the way he should. You know, I feel sorry for him sometimes – Merlin, that is. He deserves a lot more credit than he gets."

"Credit for what, exactly?" he prompted, unable to help himself.

She smiled, setting her empty cup back on the table. "Well, he's not much of a fighter, but he's very brave. He's a hard worker, always kind, willing to do anything… well, _almost_ anything for a friend."

Just as he'd begun to preen under her praise, the last part of her statement stopped him short. "What do you mean by 'almost'?

A shadow crossed her lovely features. "Well, when I thought I had magic, he didn't exactly react well."

"What do you mean? Did he threaten to tell the king?"

"No!" She looked offended on his behalf, which was gratifying. "No, of course not. Merlin would never do something like that. He just… didn't want to hear it, I guess. It made me feel so alone."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to make you feel that way. He probably doesn't know much about… magic, and if you're his friend, someone he cares about, it was probably frightening for him to think you might be in danger. Denial wasn't the best reaction, maybe, but I think it's understandable."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right."

"And anyway, it doesn't matter now, does it?" he said brightly, wanting nothing more than to wipe away the last traces of uncertainty from her expression. "Since you don't have magic…"

"I never got a chance to thank you for your help," she interrupted. "I haven't had a nightmare in a week, ever since the night you performed the spell."

Seizing the opportunity, he recited the words aloud, relieved to feel that same transference of energy that had occurred the last time he'd spoken them. Getting her to drink the wine and the potion contained therein was the easy part – figuring out how he might be able to put voice to the incantation each week without making her suspicious was another matter entirely.

She smiled. "Right, that's the one. It's still hard to believe that it worked, but…"

"Are you glad it did?"

She looked at him thoughtfully. "It's a relief to know I'm no longer in danger. And yes, being able to sleep through the night is a luxury I haven't had in years. Yes, I'm glad. I should be. It's just that I feel the absence of it sometimes… I can't explain it very well, but it's as if there's something hollow inside me that should be filled with… something. I don't know."

Merlin swallowed a rush of guilt. "You'd been under the effects of the enchantment for a long time, Morgana. Now that those powers are gone, it only makes sense that you need some time to get used to living without them."

"Yes, I'm sure you're right," she said, then let out a quiet laugh. "I'm saying that a lot tonight, aren't I?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "You won't hear me complain."

"You have a nice smile, Kynon," she blurted out after a moment, looking uncharacteristically self-conscious. "I'm glad you changed your mask so I can see it. It's strange though – there's _something_ about you… your eyes, your mouth, I can't be sure. But you seem familiar to me somehow."

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, of course I do. We're hardly strangers anymore."

"No, I suppose not. But I… it seems as if I've known you for much longer than I have, as if…"

"I know what you mean," he interrupted, struggling to swallow his nervousness as he searched for a proper response. "Sometimes it's like that. You know, you meet some people and it's as if you've known them forever. And then there are others who will always be beyond your understanding, no matter how much time you spend in their presence."

"Like Uther," she said, not troubling to hide her scowl. "He's been a part of my life since I was a child, yet I don't get him at all. His coldness, his hatred…"

"Right," Merlin agreed. "You see? It's not how long you've known someone, but what you share."

"And what do we share?" Morgana asked him quietly.

"Hope. Compassion. The desire for justice and truth, the need to have a voice and be recognized for who we are. Our mutual lack of understanding for the things that drive men like the king, no doubt, and…"

"Yes. You're very insightful, Kynon. Seems surprising in someone who has spent so much of his life alone, but then again, I suppose it makes sense."

Merlin raised an eyebrow at her, though of course, she couldn't see it. "How so?"

"Well, it seems like anyone without the ability to speak would spend a lot more time learning to listen."

Silently, he nodded.

* * *

Morgana was swiftly coming to a stunning realization – she was attracted to this man.

Was it the intriguing combination of mystery and familiarity, the feeling that giving herself over to him would be like hurling herself into the unknown, all while knowing there was a soft cushion waiting to catch her if she should fall? Yes, maybe that was it – she felt safe with him, which seemed absurd after only knowing the man for a couple weeks. But after all, didn't it make sense? He could have harmed her countless times by now, and he hadn't, not to mention that he'd put his own life at risk to help her. No, the only thing that wouldn't make sense at this point would be _not_ placing her trust in him.

And then another thought struck her, so enticing that she felt the color rising in her cheeks. Kynon had lived in solitude for a decade, only a boy when he'd been forced to go into hiding. True, he'd made a surprisingly decent life for himself in his hidden sanctuary, but what of all those things he'd never had a chance to experience?

It was a heady feeling to realize she could be the one – the _only_ one – to show him what it was to give and receive pleasure in another person's arms. And he would be hers and hers alone, without even a remote possibility that she'd have to compete with anyone else for his affections.

Yes, she could be the center of his world, responsible for every fantasy, every moment of passion, every ounce of devotion he was capable of. And for a woman who admittedly, had always been a bit possessive, that realization was far too tempting to put from her mind once it had occurred to her.

"What are you thinking about?"

Morgana jumped, startled from her thoughts by a soft voice and an inquisitive look.

"Nothing," she said hastily, rising from her chair so abruptly that it fell over with a clatter. "That is, it must be getting late and I need to be careful. I should be going now."

He nodded in agreement, rising to walk her to the door as he always did. "Will you visit again soon?"

One lovely thing about the mask was that it gave her an excuse to forgo the much more benign kiss to the cheek that might've been expected. No, she went straight for his mouth, lush and pink, his lips parting in a gasp of shock as she covered them with her own. Hardly realizing what she was doing, Morgana took advantage of the opportunity, her tongue sliding out to stroke his in a gentle caress.

He didn't respond at first, standing there frozen as she pressed herself against his lean body. But she felt it, thick and hard against the soft contours of her stomach, even as his arms came around her, holding her close against his swiftly beating heart. And then with little skill but a great deal of enthusiasm, he was kissing her back, groaning low in his throat as he buried his hands in her hair.

Morgana allowed it to continue for a few blissful minutes, surprised at how easy, how _right_ it felt to surrender to this man rather than lead the way as she'd expected to do. Inexperienced or not, he was a quick learner, eliciting breathless sighs and soft moans of approval from her lips as he deepened a kiss that seemed as if it would never end.

But then it was over, brought to an abrupt halt as she pulled out of his arms, giving him a wicked, if somewhat tremulous smile. Perhaps it wasn't the kindest thing to do, leaving him standing there with a desperate longing in eyes that reminded her of a starving man in chains with a sumptuous banquet placed just beyond his reach. But no, it was better this way… leave him hungry, positively aching for her, and then next time…

Next time, she'd expect to be thoroughly ravished from head to toe.

"Good night, Kynon," she said sweetly, well out of earshot before he'd recovered his wits enough to respond.


End file.
